


Let Me Wash Away Your Fears

by ninaloveshiddles



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Gardens & Gardening, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Hell Trauma, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), I Love You, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power of Words, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninaloveshiddles/pseuds/ninaloveshiddles
Summary: Request by tennerCrowley has vivid memories and flashbacks of Hell that haunt him to this day. He ends up destroying part of his garden in a fit of emotion. Aziraphale has learned over the years to see signs of Crowley's distress and goes to comfort him with kind words and a gentle bath.TW: implied rape, mild violence
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 128





	Let Me Wash Away Your Fears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tenner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenner/gifts).



Crowley plunged the spade deep into the soil, carving out a hole to set the tulip bulbs in. The summer sun beat down on his neck, scorching at the fair skin of his corporation. He bit his bottom lip harshly; this was a bad day. He woke up early that morning drenched in sweat, the silk of his sheets outlined with the damp shape of his body. He hadn’t had nightmares for years; he thought he had gotten past this. Crowley grumbled as he shoved the bulb deep into the earth, fighting against the memories that flashed maliciously in his mind.

“All I want to do is just move on,” he spat, clawing roughly at the soil until it was embedded deep under his nails. The nightmares had started some centuries after his fall; painful reminders of the first few months in hell that he had repressed. All the angels had just fallen, their wings drenched in blacks and browns and grays. Some found their skin had bubbled grotesquely, their teeth had turned to razors…or their eyes had turned a viperous yellow. They were angry, scared; some proud and cocky. Whatever the emotions, one thing was clear; they had needed someone to take it out on.

_I don’t find it fair that you got to stay so pretty, Crawley._

_Look at that, this demon has made an effort!_

_You think you’re better than us don’t you? Like your sins don’t stink?_

“Leave me alone!” Crowley yelled, chucking a bulb at the fence. He had come over to Aziraphale’s early in the morning after his nightmare. The angel had a very small plot behind his shop. It wasn’t much, but Crowley had turned it into a rather nice garden; partially as a gift to the angel and partially because there was no room for one at his place. Crowley had hoped gardening could possibly occupy his mind, but the flashbacks seemed stronger today.

The nightmare had brought tears to his eyes, and his heart raced so fast he thought it may quit. Could a demon even have a heart attack? He wanted to phone Aziraphale, tell him what had happened…but he couldn’t. The angel had been working hard with him on recovering from the trauma of Hell; he didn’t want to disappoint him. He didn’t want the angel to think he was weak. But as he continued sifting through the soil the memory prodded his brain until suddenly:

_“How do you like that, you fucking creature?” A demon cackled as he whipped Crawley across the back. The smell of brimstone filled the newly fallen angel’s nose. He cried out in pain, his now red hair plastered over his eyes._

_“Move over, it’s my turn,” another chuckled deviously. He grabbed a piece of brimstone and chucked it, hitting Crawley in the skull._

_“Please,” Crawley whimpered. “I didn’t do anything to you!”_

_“You didn’t have to,” Hastur growled from a few feet away, content to watch._

_“You know,” Ligur interjected, “I heard that this one likes to change its effort for fun.” Crawley’s eyes widened and he tried desperately to crawl away, but his hands were tied tightly behind his back in chains forged in the hellfire itself._

_“Don’t,” he murmured, unable to say more._

_“Well go on then,” a demon jeered, ripping away Crawley’s robes. The fallen angel gasped, his bare skin exposed to the heat, the scorching fires seared and burned. “Show us what you’re packing.” He flipped Crawley onto his back, causing his knuckles to grind against the stone, his male member exposed._

_“You know what,” another responded, “I don’t much care for that. I think I could get much more use out of the other one. Change it for me.”_

“Fuck it all to Heaven!” Crowley screeched, throwing dirt in the air. Black soil rained down, getting into his hair, his eyes, under his clothes. _Change it again, I want a go._ “Stop!” Crowley stood, the blood rushing to his head as he stumbled back away from the tulip bed. _I guess we could magic you all lubed up and ready…but what’s the fun in that?_ Crowley stomped across the perennials, rage bubbling up from his abdomen into his throat. _Hold him down, I don’t like it when they squirm._

Aziraphale had heard Crowley early that morning. Assuming the demon just wanted to garden, the angel had stayed inside with his book and cocoa. As the morning progressed though, he was surprised Crowley hadn’t come in for a small break; he liked to sit with Aziraphale as the angel nibbled on his breakfast. Aziraphale walked to the back of the shop and peeked through the window at the small garden to see Crowley ripping up plants and yelling out into the sky. He was familiar with the demon’s proclivities of putting the fear of himself into his plants…but this was different. Over the years he had become attuned to Crowley’s signals of distress; when he was upset he wouldn’t yell at the plants, or use a garbage disposal. He would destroy anything beautiful he had made.

He knew Crowley just as well as the demon knew him. He could recognize the demon’s distress the way Crowley could recognize Aziraphale’s flashbacks to the emotional torment of Heaven. Aziraphale knew that Crowley must be consoled. The angel flew through the back door, now clearly hearing Crowley’s yells.

“Why? Why couldn’t they just leave me alone?”

“Dear,” Aziraphale prompted softly, maintaining a safe distance from the demon,

“What!?” Crowley hissed, his eyes flaming.

“It’s not your fault that happened to you. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he explained earnestly, taking a small step towards the demon. Crowley’s body shook with emotion, his lips curled into a snarl. “It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. It was a long time since your last flashback, and I’m so proud of you, Crowley.”

“Really?” the demon furrowed his brow, a tear slipping from his eye.

“Of course dearest; you’re the strongest being I know.” Crowley had stilled, his body curling inward now, making him look so small. The energy had left him and he took a small step towards the angel before slumping into his open arms.

“I’m so tired, angel,” he whimpered.

“I know, my dear. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, shall we?” Aziraphale led Crowley into the house, pausing on the door mat. The demon was filthy; dirt clung to his clothes and hair, streaking his face. Aziraphale fingered at the top button of Crowley’s shirt, careful to make eye contact. “May I?” he asked gently. The demon nodded and allowed Aziraphale to undress him, the angel giving great care and patience to each button and the zipper on Crowley’s jeans. He slowly dragged his pants down and helped Crowley step out of them. His feet were an absolute mess; the demon always gardened barefoot. The angel lifted the now naked demon into his arms and carried his dirt soaked body through the shop and into the back bathroom.

The demon nuzzled slightly against the angel’s temple, enjoying how safe he felt in Aziraphale’s protective embrace. Crowley was spent, unable to say much or think about anything through the numbness of his mind. He closed his eyes, surrendering to his exhaustion and allowed himself to simply feel the sway of Aziraphale’s arms. Soak in the warmth of the bath that the angel had miracled for him. Crowley took a moment and sunk in the large claw foot tub, submerging his head. He had no need for air really, and he was content to stay down there for a few minutes. The sound of the water against his ears soothed him, as did the presence of his angel watching diligently from the surface.

Crowley eventually resurfaced and lazily wiped the water away from his eyes. He looked up to Aziraphale whose face made him want to weep. Whenever he looked at the angel, all he could see was love. Not disappointment, not pity, but admiration.

“Let’s get you clean, dear,” Aziraphale whispered, adding soap to a loofah. Crowley nodded his head and held out his hand, allowing the angel to scrub the dirt away from his fingers before sliding up his arm, across his shoulders to the back of his neck. Each stroke caused tingles just beneath Crowley’s skin, and he reveled in feeling of being cleansed. Aziraphale rubbed across Crowley’s chest, erasing any speck of dirt that had fallen beneath his clothes. His hand went down further and further until he stopped at Crowley’s hips.

“Is this okay?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes full of concern. Crowley took the loofah and cleaned himself, but offered a weak smile to the angel.

“Could you wash my hair instead?” he asked. The angel nodded and squeezed a small amount of shampoo into his hand before working it through Crowley’s hair. He started at the top of his head, massaging Crowley’s scalp as the suds built up through his hair. The demon uttered a pleased “hmm,” and leaned his head back into Aziraphale’s deft fingers.

The angel liked taking care of Crowley, and he felt honored to be one of the few in the cosmos that the demon would trust with something so intimate. Since Armageddon, their relationship had progressed into something along the lines of romantic; they had seen each other naked now and kissed on a few occasions. But it was moments like this that made whatever existed between them seem poignant and special. You could lust for anyone, but trust; that was something Aziraphale valued more than anything. And he trusted Crowley with his life, and he knew the demon felt the same.

He carefully rinsed the fiery locks, making sure not to get water in Crowley’s eyes. The angel checked the demon once more for dirt before determining him to be spotless. He leaned down to kiss the top of his head, breathing in his fresh scent.

“All clean,” he hummed. He lifted Crowley out of the bath to a standing position, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around his naked form. Aziraphale always admired the beauty of Crowley’s corporation; how the small freckles scattered across his shoulders like stars. How lean muscles stretched under smooth skin. The impressive effort the demon had decided to make when he was feeling masculine, and how lovely it looked when he was feeling feminine. He loved all parts of Crowley, though he had never professed this out loud. Though Crowley would deny it, he was sure the demon could feel his love.

He carried Crowley out to the living room and shut all the blinds with a flick of his finger, making the book shop dark and cozy in the candlelight. He lay Crowley down on the couch and miracled him one of his personal shirts and boxers. Though they were clearly too big, the demon gave a small smile and hugged himself, inhaling Aziraphale’s scent at the collar.

“There, my dear. How about you get some rest, okay?” The demon opened his eyes again, they were red from tears and large with a suppressed sadness.

“Can you stay with me?” Crowley asked.

“Of course,” the angel agreed. He maneuvered himself behind Crowley on the sofa, and gave a small kiss to the back of his neck as he captured the demon’s torso in his arms. “How’s this?”

“Perfect.” Crowley backed his weight against Aziraphale’s body, enjoying the softness against his harsh edges. “Angel?”

“Hmm?” The demon turned his neck to look at Aziraphale.

“Kiss me.” It wasn’t a question, but not quite a command. Aziraphale placed his lips warmly against the demon’s, tasting his mouth, admiring his softness. Crowley’s cheeks became hot and his ears turned red as he melted, crafting his mouth perfectly with the angel’s. The broke the kiss, the two entities breathing a little harsher now.

“I’m always here for you,” Aziraphale prompted.

“I know.”

“And…” Aziraphale paused, mustering up the courage. His stomach was in knots and he thought Crowley could feel his heartbeat against him. “I love you.”

“I know, angel,” Crowley said with a playful smirk. He shifted his body, returning to the spooning position as he closed his eyes. “I love you, too.” In the safety of Aziraphale’s arms, at least for a few hours, he could be safe from all that haunted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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